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Updated: June 8, 2025
Her hair, brown and warm in shadow, sparkled, where the sun touched it, transparent and iridescent, like crinkly threads of glass. "You do not think it altogether bad I hope?" she questioned, arching her eyebrows slightly, with a droll little assumption of concern. Peter's heart was racing but he must answer her.
With her eyes beautiful eyes, with that new look of mother-love in them; proud eyes, with that inexhaustible store of riches all her own, worshipping the crinkly red snub nose and the funny moving mouth, and the little downy head, and everything else that goes to make up a properly-constituted Baby. "I think the time'll come, deer. Watch out, an' one d'y you'll see!"
Other reminiscences filled the next two sides of the letter, and ran, without a trace of punctuation, into instructions about a Salamander stove for heating my work-room in the flat; these were followed by things I was to tell the cook, and by requests for several articles she had forgotten and would like sent after her, two of them blouses, with descriptions so lengthy and contradictory that I sighed as I read them "unless you come down soon, in which case perhaps you wouldn't mind bringing them; not the mauve one I wear in the evening sometimes, but the pale blue one with lace round the collar and the crinkly front.
Patricia watched her disappear behind the big screen of the composition room, and then she turned excitedly to Elinor. "Isn't she nice?" she asked admiringly. "She's so cock-sure of herself and so calm about it. I like the way her eyebrows meet over her haughty nose, and that superior kink in her nice, crinkly lips. I know she's going to be worth while when we know her."
Sheehy was far less tolerated and tolerable than either of her peccant sons. She had a little withered face, with hard red cheeks and bright, rather mad black eyes, set in a frame of crinkly black hair. You might meet her on the road of a sweet summer morning, trapesing, to use the expressive Irish word, along, with a sunshade over her battered bonnet.
His yellow hair was thick and fine, and if it hadn't been cropped so close would have curled a little. His beard, in small crinkly spirals, did actually curl, and toward the edge its yellow burned to red. And his blue eyes were so very very blue, and so very keen, and so very frank and pleasant "They are like sailors' eyes," thought Lady Blanchemain, who had a sentiment for sailors.
And Jeanette Barclay as a young woman often looks at the scrap-book with its crinkly leaves and reads this item from the Daily Banner: "The angels visited our prosperous city again last Thursday, June 12, and left a little one named Jeanette at the home of our honoured townsman, John Barclay. Mother and child progressing nicely."
A study in black and daffodil a ravishing confection and also used part of our "FANTASTIK" kit, but made the bodice out of crinkly yellow paper. A chrysanthemum of the same shade in my hair, which was skinned back in the latest door-knob fashion, completed the get-up.
"Oh, I'm so very sorry," she apologized humbly; "perhaps I can help you find it again. What was it you lost?" "It were a brownie, a brown leaf brownie wiv crinkly legs, and I were following it and now " "And now I've chased it away. Isn't that a shame." Phyllis was very serious. "But, do you know, I think it was the brownie's own fault.
He went alone." "Have you seen Sam yet?" "No, but I've seen Laura London. She's all the nice things you've said about her." Curly grew enthusiastic, "Ain't she the dandiest girl ever? She's the right kind of a friend. And pretty with that short crinkly hair the color of ripe nuts! You would not think one person could own so many dimples as she does when she laughs.
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